How Lovely Yellow Is
by Gotaru
Summary: He's everything. Four short stories about different couples, each of them paired with Alphonse. Inspired by a friend's story!


**D isclaimer: **this is nothing more than love. **Arakawa** is the genius.

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Just a short translation exercise. This is my first translated work for the FMA fandom, so I hope it's not so bad!

 **Thank you** so much for reading. :')

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 **How Lovely Yellow Is**

 **(** _It stands for the sun_ **)**

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 **xXx**

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 _Contigo hace falta pasión y un toque de poesía; gracias por existir_

 _ **/**_

 _With you, passion and a touch of poetry are needed- thank you for existing_

 **―Eros Ramazzotti**

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 **xXx**

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1\. ― **Roy x Alphonse** ―

~ devotion ~

A shared look it's all it takes for them to realize: in _this_ reality, this was meant to be. And, perhaps, at others that existed as well.

"If I'm being too rough…"

Golden eyes smile gently, because Al knows that Mustang's words go further than the fact that he's inside of him now. Roy is afraid of hurting him in other ways.

"I trust you."

Roy's smile lacks any colors.

"You shouldn't." Blood-stained fingers caress his cheek: because he wants to make sure that Alphonse is there for real.

(Human and whole and in his arms)

Back then, it seemed impossible to reach this level of pure devotion towards a being that for so long didn't have a face, but…

Roy can no longer think because he has lost (and found) himself. It is a crash between darkness and light under his eyelids. Alphonse digs his fingers into the skin of his back.

"Keep hanging on to me…"

 **[ ... ]**

2\. ― **Jean x Alphonse** ―

~ farewell ~

The smoke of his cigarette travels towards the night sky: Havoc stares at the stars that light up the world. His face shows no emotions at all and his body prevails attached to a wheelchair. This is his fate now.

So when the hands of an angel drop a dark-blue coat over his shoulders, it's unexpected and sublime.

"It's cold out here: please keep yourself warm, Lieutenant."

"When are you going to stop calling me that, kid?"

A tender kiss against his forehead: the best answer Al could offer.

Naturally, Alphonse would know when Havoc's heart was beating with slight nostalgia, craving for better days.

It's… uncertain, yes, what's going to happen between them when the time comes for Alphonse to return to Xing, where a leading role awaits for him to be embraced, but Havoc holds in his hands (like gold and jewels and sweet tears) every second he shares by Al's side. He will.

 **[ ... ]**

3\. ― **Winry x Alphonse** ―

~ quietly ~

She's stubborn and will never admit it out loud, however, Winry knows deep down that she yearns to take Edward's hand and never let it go, but…

But Al's face, always gorgeous, always flawless, irradiates light and melodies when he laughs. Al dazzles every sense of hers that can feel him in the room, and she stands still under the doorframe to admire him as a whole. How could she not, when that face had remained captive behind steel for so unfairly long?

"Win?"

Winry snaps back to the now, meets sun-colored, breathtaking eyes and her face goes a pinkish shade that he doesn't notice. Al never does.

"Sorry. What is it?"

"Everything's alright?"

' _Even after all these weeks, it's so new. I didn't realize I had missed you this much._ _And you're so beautiful I can't look away at times. Isn't that weird?_ '

Winry shivers a bit: she doesn't know why, not exactly, but knowing she _can't_ say these words makes her want to weep. Al deserves all that he never got.

She would remain quiet.

"I'm just… _happy_ that you're back with us, dummy. That's all." Winry is disgusted at the cowardice, at the burning lump in her throat, because it's not allowing the most important things to get through.

Tilting his head, Alphonse beams with the delighted surprise of someone that caught the sight of a shooting star, and it's _so_ opposite to self-absorbed grins. And when Ed stomps bighead into the room, stabbing this moment in its fleeting heart, Winry Rockbell has lost her chance forever.

 **[ ... ]**

4\. ― **Riza x Alphonse** ―

~ child ~

His armor shines thanks to the sunlight and Riza wonders how his golden hair (long and straight or short and neat, she doesn't know which, because he never talks about himself) might stand out from everything else if he was human.

Alphonse laughs sweetly, in the way an artist wants to tune their songs: Riza prevents her chest from breaking in two with one hand, her heart charmed to painful limits. And things shouldn't feel like that.

All the while, Hayate is licking one of his gloves.

"When I get my body back… Could I have your permission to play with him, Lieutenant? Would that be okay?"

She tries not to, because she's already done her fair amount of you-will-burn-in-hell-for-it stuff, but it slips through her hands: in the darkness of her mind, she imagines Alphonse in all of his physical, yet to be known glory― she reprimands herself with the quickness of the reaching for a gun.

' _He's endearing and bright and so gentle it hurts. And he's also a child. So don't you dare, Hawkeye_. _You're nowhere near him_.'

Alphonse Elric deserves better, but her lips arch to form an untrue mask. They had to.

"It's unnecessary to ask for it, Alphonse." He bows in such a good-naturedly way it's her turn to chuckle. There's much more ease when she says it and Riza is thankful for it. "Why don't you start now?" She spends the evening sit back in the park bench, watching him being a child for once.

When everything is over, she thinks, she can only hope to still be remotely around. It's clear in the beating hunger in Edward's eyes: if metal and an echoing voice and scarlet lifeless eyes are so precious, the world is truly missing out something that is worth to give a piece of yourself in exchange for.

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 **...**


End file.
